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  • Writer's pictureD. G. Martin

If I Had a Rocket Ship

An artist rendition of a planet in space.
Ahh, space....Space.

It’s not that I wouldn’t join up if I had the chance. 

I tried to in high school, but the combination of my eyesight (minor problem) and a weak enzyme in my lungs that causes asthma and the inability to process some strong fumes (NOT a minor problem) basically got me a big 4-F stamp without even having to apply. 

Now in my mid-30’s, my slow and steady aging (and some of the usual pounds that go with it) pretty much means that the physical aspects would most assuredly add to the check marks against me. 

So it’s not for lack of effort, nor for lack of want, that I would most likely be rejected for any kind of service. 

But it’s not all about me, is it? 

I have a great and terrible gift, and I admittedly need to be much better about using it. I have an imagination and the ability to convey that imagination (with varying and arguable degrees of success) to a medium that I can share with others and enjoy in the telling. 

So is that enough for me? Well, it probably has to be. 

If this thing is seriously going to happen, it’s in the hands of a generation even younger than mine to make it happen. 

It’s not so bad, though. Maybe I get to be one of the last dreamers. 

Is a dream less sweet just because I may get to see others live it? 

Maybe. Maybe not. 

But before yesterday, I didn’t even know if I’d ever get to find out. 


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